


Lovercape

by dt8b0t



Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: Other, Unrequited Love, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 20:10:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10198901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dt8b0t/pseuds/dt8b0t
Summary: I can't believe I'm uploading this. I even tagged it with "unrequited love", god forbid. I swear, this started as a crackfic.Oneshot. Light and happy.





	

Stephen Strange slumped onto his bed. That battle was a rough one, on the verge of loss- but he made it. Hardly, but alive. He groaned tiredly. His cloak’s collar pet his cheek softly.  
“Oh shut up you dumb rug. Let me sleep.”  
The cloak retreated away from him in a sort of offended way, then flew off onto the coat hanger.  
“Oh come on, you're going to sit alone in the dark so I'd feel bad? You're full of shit, you know that?”  
No answer from the floating fabric.  
A sigh. “Look, I'm sorry. This is no way to treat a friend, even if I'm tired.”  
The cloak didn't move. Stephen had known he should stop talking to it like that- but then again, he has a tendency to be a prick.  
“Please, can I make it up to you?” The cloak half turned towards him, listening. “You're all dirty, I'll clean you up.” The cloak seemed furious- “Not in the washing machine! I know how much you hate it.” (The washing machine makes it sea-sick.)  
It visibly calmed down. It glanced towards him, as much as cloaks can glance, and after a pause flew to his side.  
He smiled to it. Together they went to the bathroom, and the sorcerer opened the faucet. The robe sat inside the sink readily- on one hand, it never listened to orders, but on the other hand, it always sat so obediently when Stephen offered to clean it. He guessed it likes being clean, or being cleaned, or something of the sort. Strangely enough, it didn't allow anyone else to clean it.  
Stephen put some liquid soap in his hand and rubbed the dirty spots with it. They've been mainly dirt, so it didn't take long to soap and rince them off. His hands went along the smooth, soft velvet gently and lovingly. All the while, the robe’s tips wrapped themselves around his arms, sometimes petting, sometimes squeezing.  
Stephen didn't quite get what it was trying to say, ‘cause hey, he's a doctor, not a cloak expert. He was pretty sure it liked it though. The collar started rubbing circles on the back of his left hand. Strange chuckled, and soaped its shiny metal wings. For a moment he considered that the cloak might see it as more than routine laundry, but he disposed of the concept. Even if it does, Stephen does not want to know about it. He started washing off the soap, and pet the fabric along the way.  
Now he only needed to dry it. “Do you want me to squeeze out the water?”  
The cloak seemed to consider it, then after a pause, rolled into a tight rope and squeezed its water into the sink.  
“I'll take that as a no.”  
When the robe was done, the magician waved it to come and nodded towards the other room.  
The cloak, still moist, flew at him and quickly wrapped itself around his body. He chuckled and sort of put his hands on it, the way you hug a person that's hugging you from the back.  
“Did anyone ever tell you your fabric is lovely?”  
The cloak waved it's tip at him in a way that says “oh, stop it~” without really wanting you to stop, all while continuing to be a piece of silent, expressionless red fabric.  
Dr. Strange slumped into the bed once more. The moist cloak slid off of him and pulled his blanket on him, then went to it's own bed, the hanger inside the wardrobe.

 

Bonus scene:  
Stephen is getting dressed in the morning. The wardrobe door creeps open, only a bit, until a crack reveals a bit of innocent red fabric, that just happens to be close and have a good angle to the outside. The door is slammed shut by a human hand, a specific magician’s one.  
“Pervert.”


End file.
